'You know that ancient Greek girl?' Paige says.
Who drew the outline of her lost lover? I say, yeah.
And she says, 'You know that eventually she just forgot him and invented wallpaper.'
It's creepy, but here we are, the Pilgrims, the crackpots of our time, trying to establish our own alternate reality. To build a world out of rocks and chaos.
What it's going to be, I don't know.
Even after all that rushing around, where we've ended up is the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.
And maybe knowing isn't the point.
Where we're standing right now, in the ruins in the dark, what we build could be anything.
-end-
Вы читаете Удушье (Choke)
